


Thomas is Waluigi

by diving_bell_spider



Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: Communists, Domestic Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Gay Speakeasy, M/M, Revolution, Slow Burn, The Smiths - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:41:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25566859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/diving_bell_spider/pseuds/diving_bell_spider
Summary: Inspired by an interview of both Rob James-Collier and Allen Leech where they toss out the idea for a spin off series involving Thomas and Branson moving to New York together and running bars across the street from each other, with Branson owning an Irish Pub and Thomas, a gay bar. This is a sort of building off that idea, taking into consideration prohibition. So instead of bars, Branson owns a legal Irish pub that just serves food and Thomas starts to develop an illegal speakeasy beneath the pub for the gays and the communists (and the gay communists :) ). Also in the interview with Rob and Allen, they joke about Molesley being Thomas's DJ and playing only The Smiths, so obviously that had to happen, so that's why Molesley is there and otherwise he doesn't really matter. So, uh, yeah. Don't expect much accuracy, historic or otherwise. hehe. Also Thomas and Branson are in love. Duh.
Relationships: Thomas Barrow/Tom Branson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 27





	1. Chapter 1

The flat above the pub was admittedly smaller than originally advertised. And Thomas had to accept with an unwelcome sense of anxiety that he was slightly disappointed, and not just with the size, but with the spots of exposed brick, and the slanted wooden floors, and the peeling paint on the kitchen cabinets. 

But Thomas, in his own odd way, was determined to see the good in this endeavour. He closed his eyes and inhaled through his nose. Beneath the smell of mildew, there was a sweeter scent, one of jasmine perhaps. And when Thomas opened his eyes, he took in the rather brilliant light that poured in through the eastern facing windows. Was sunlight different in America? He wondered briefly. 

Thomas was stirred from his reverie by the sounds of footsteps banging up the stairs. Out of habit, Thomas quickly changed his expression from one of emotive contemplation to pouting indifference when the two men and one girl entered the room. 

Molesley was apologizing awkwardly for not carrying more of the luggage as Branson unloaded the cumbersome objects. Even in this laborious task, Branson seemed unbothered and even contented. Thomas often marveled at this quality in Branson, to be so confident at every turn in life. 

“The floorboards are a bit uneven and the wallpaper is chipping in places, but I think we can make do.” Thomas felt the strange need to protect the integrity of the flat as he spouted its flaws. 

Branson was beaming, looking all around, his arms open wide in a triumphant manner. “No, Thomas. It’s perfect.”

Thomas tried to keep the blush from creeping up his neck and onto his face. Thomas, after all, was the one to find the empty pub and adjoining flat. He couldn’t quite contain his pride and found himself smiling and yes, even blushing. 

Molesley was muttering something about the lack of bedrooms, but Thomas didn’t listen. Nothing could take Thomas’s attention away from the feeling of joy blooming in his chest as Branson took Thomas’s hand and brought him into a quick embrace. “We’ve done it, Thomas. We’re really here.”

“Yes, we are, aren’t we?”

They smiled at each other for another moment, not moving away, until Sybbie spoke. “Papa, come look out the window.”

Branson looked bashfully up at Thomas for the briefest of moments before joining his daughter at the window. 

As Thomas looked down at the New York block, taking in the trees and the pavement and the brick buildings pressed up against one another, he couldn’t help but think of home for a moment. This flat, and the Irish pub that would eventually come together beneath them was no Downton, but perhaps it was better. Because for the first time in his life, Thomas had something that was his own.


	2. Thomas Walks Alone At Midnight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas loves his secrets.

Branson’s books started to line the walls of the small flat, stacked in precarious piles loosely organized into history and politics with some intermittent fiction. The furniture they had ordered was moved in two weeks ago, but the bookcases they had requested had never arrived. 

Thomas knelt down to look at one of the stacks. There was the Communist Manifesto and Edith Wharton’s The Age of Innocence, along with books Thomas did not recognize by Proust and Langston Hughes. 

\--

Molesley was relegated to the attic. There weren't enough rooms for everybody, so he lived with the spiders and the bats. He also did most of the cooking, which was the deal when Molesley originally insisted on coming to America with Thomas and Branson. Unfortunately, Molesley wasn't the best of cooks, and Thomas almost always found himself getting up from his window perch, cigarette still hanging from his mouth, and pushing Molesley out of the way. Thomas had watched Ms Patmore for years and had even helped Daisy on the rare occasion. 

In those early days where Branson was busy setting up the pub, Thomas would spend most of his time with Sybbie, either supervising her in the pub while Branson worked, or reading in the flat with her or going for the occasional walk. A few weeks after their arrival, Branson had successfully gotten into contact with one of his cousins who had moved to New York a few years prior. This cousin started to take care of Sybbie during the days.

Thomas helped Branson with the rebuilding and the refurbishing and started to bookkeep for Branson once the pub was officially open. But Thomas felt fairly distant from the workings of the pub. The pub was Branson’s through and through. All of Branson’s customers went to the same Catholic Church every Sunday, could talk about the same homeland, the same folktales, the same general dislike for the English Aristocracy. Branson was easily folded into their world in a way that Thomas never could be. 

Thomas became acutely aware of his need for a community like the one Branson had. It was a longing he had possessed most of his life, but at Downton with its surrounding sleepy countryside, Thomas had always felt he would never be able to find what he was looking for. But here, in New York, it was different.

Thomas felt the energy of this place as something both deeply unknown and viscerally comforting. There were more people like him here. He just had to find them. 

\--

He took to roaming the city at night. He left after dinner, without much explanation. He didn’t like to leave Sybbie and Branson and Molesley, sitting so comfortable at their dining table, content and full of food. But he had himself to attend to, so he almost always spent the evenings out. 

At first, he truly just walked. The city seemed always to be awake. 

Then, he would occasionally stop in establishments, restaurants and cafes. He would even slip into the gaudy “picture palaces” and find himself staring at an oversized silver screen. 

One night, he stopped in at a restaurant in downtown Manhattan. Prohibition was in full bloom. Thomas had never been much of a drinker, so he was unbothered by this himself, but he knew that there were illegal bars. He could smell it on passerbys and see it on the cheeky smiles of blushing couples. Thomas had always had a knack for sniffing out secrets.

In this particular restaurant, the smell seemed especially palpable, wafting off red cheeked gentlemen who held on to the back of Thomas’s stool as they walked by. Thomas started to look around, curious to find where they were all coming from. 

The restaurant was packed, mostly with young men, and while Thomas was unable to spot any type of secret door, he did manage to catch someone's eye. A gentleman, probably about Thomas’s age or perhaps a little older, with curly brown hair and gleaming mischievous eyes. The man smiled ever so slightly as their gazes locked. Thomas returned the smile with a smirk. 

Feeling he had timed the interaction perfectly, Thomas broke the eye contact and returned to his meal. As expected, within moments, the man was by Thomas’s side. 

“Come with me.”


End file.
